What Happens in Belgium Doesn't stay in Belgium
by MissNothing287
Summary: Hmmm... I wonder what happens when America, Russia, Hungary and Germany go to Belgium's house for a week? *grins evilly* Let's see. {Under revision}
1. Chapter 1

When Russia walks into the world meeting America is blabbing about how a super hero could end world hunger some way or another, while the other nations zone out and wait for the meeting to finally end. His pale lavender eyes search the large room for a place to sit, finding that the only open seat was in between a woman with short, curly blonde hair and cat-green eyes and her brother, a tall, angular man who stares grumpily at the blank sheet of notebook paper in front of him. The pair of siblings stiffen when they notice the creepy Russian man seat himself in the empty chair that would normally host their other brother, the tiny Luxembourg.

"Bonjour, Russia." Belgium squeaks, her strange, diluted French accent streaming through her voice.

"**Здравствуйте**, Belgium and Netherlands." Russia answers, dipping his head slightly at them in an effort to be polite.

Netherlands stiffens at the sound of his name, peering at the other man suspiciously before nodding his head in return. The meeting continues for another two hours, with Belgium taking detailed notes and Netherlands glaring at his notebook, while slowly filling it up with doodles of two men that looked suspiciously like himself and Switzerland. Russia simply sat with a creepy smile on his face, showing that he was probably daydreaming about killing the irritating American who didn't shut up the entire meeting. When the clock finally hit the designated leaving time, all of the nations begin to pack up quickly, eyeing the host of the meeting in anticipation for his officially stating that they could finally leave.

"The meet'n' 's ov'r." Sweden says in his monotonous mumble, standing up.

"Peace out suckers." Denmark says, practically skipping out the door with his highly annoyed lover, Norway.

Netherlands and Belgium hurry outside to their waiting car. Netherlands' car, what with his being the manly-man he is, was an eco-friendly hybrid that he had to scrunch up into to fit rather comically in the driver's seat. Belgium easily slid into the car, thanks to her being more on the petite side than her insanely tall, lanky brother. While her brother relights his pipe, filling the small vehicle with the sickly sweet smell of tobacco, 'La Brabançonne' begins to play from inside of Belgium's purse. She pulls her small flip-phone out and opens it, ignoring her brother's questioning stare.

"Hey, boss. What's up?" She says into the small device.

"Belgium, I would like for you to try and become better friends with Russia and America." A deep voice says.

"Why...?"

"No reason. Just invite them over for a week or so, be nice, and you'll get out of having to do paperwork for however long they're over." He giggles creepily for a moment, "Have fun~"

"Urg! Alright. Bye." Belgium pouts, closing her phone and slumping in the seat.

Netherlands stares at her inquisitively until she huffs.

"What, brüder?" She snaps, only to be answered by raised eyebrows, "My boss wants me to invite Russia and Alfred over for the week. Goodness knows what kind of chaos will come of those two being in the same house for that long."

"Hmm. Invite Elizaveta and Germany, too." Laars says quietly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. So if worst comes to worst, they can try and break it up, right?" Alice says, a half-smile forming on her lips as she looks up at her big brother, who simply nods.

* * *

><p><span>Russia<span>

Russia looks at the small envelope on his desk curiously before walking over to it, and picking it up. It was obviously made of good paper, and the handwriting of the address screamed either "girly" or "Lithuania," but if it was Lithuania or one of his sisters, they would have just called him. He shakes the envelope to check for any unwanted extras that resided with the letter, for one can never be too careful with these things. After determining that it wasn't booby-trapped, Russia opens the letter curiously.

_Dear Russia,_

_It would be lovely if you would come and visit Hungary, Germany, and I at my summer home in Liege. I'm sorry for not calling to ask you, but I seem to have misplaced your phone number and Belarus threatened to stab me when I asked her. ^_^ She is so... protective of you, kind of like my own brother is towards myself and Luxembourg. _

_If you do decide to come, I can arrange transportation. Please write back soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Kingdom Of Belgium_

"Why would Belgium be inviting me over?" he asks aloud. He scrawls out his answer (which is a yes, by the way) on a fresh sheet of paper and sends it.

* * *

><p><span>America<span>

**Alice**: Oi, Alfred, you want to come over next week?

"An invite to Belgium's house… SWEET!" America yells happily, thinking of chocolate, beer, more chocolate, waffles, more chocolate, crepes, ectera.

He quickly texts her back happily.

**Alfred**: TOTALLY DUDETTE! R Lars&Lux gonna b there?

**Alice**: Nah, they've got boring stuff to do Liz and Ludwig will be here, though.

**Alice**: ...and Russia...

**Alfred**: Just told my boss I'll be there. :D

**Alfred**: ...wait.

**Alfred**: Commie bastard is gonna be there?

**Alice**: Yeah. ^_^*

* * *

><p><strong>Alrighty, so these are the first two chapters redone. ^_^ I hope you guys liked it, and I'll be trying to redo the other chapters before this summer ends and possibly finish off this story. <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

Hungary is setting up a system of cameras throughout the house when she hears the doorbell ring. She quickly smoothes her blue shirt out and takes a calming breath, willing away images of Russia and America getting it on. Holding back a rather creepy giggle, she heads down the lovely set of winding stairs in Belgium's house. With the plan that her and Alice had concocted, there was no way in hell that Russia and America wouldn't be an item before this vacation was over. That, and Germany would finally make a move with Alice, of course.

The sight that greets Elizaveta was so comical that almost couldn't hold in a fit of laughter. Belgium was greeting Russia in the typical European fashion, that being kissing both of his cheeks. The intimidating nation had turned such a bright shade of red that he looked like he had had too much to drink. This paired with his rolling suitcase and no trench coat made him look far less menacing than usual. All in all, the man looked quite adorable, all things considered. This scene was unfortunately ended by another nation's arrival.

Gilbert was met with a frying pan to his face. His highly embarrassed brother steps over his unconscious form to greet Belgium and Hungary politely and nod stoically at Ivan, who raises a pale eyebrow in response.

"Just a moment, Ludwig, let me get Gilbert here dealt with and we can get you all settled in. ANNE!" Belgium finishes off her niceties by yelling for her maid, who rushes in breathlessly.

"Oui, Mademoiselle Alice?" The stoutly brunette asks, her petite form quickly regaining composure.

"Sil vous plaît, call a taxi to pick up Gilbert and drop him off at Francis's home?" Belgium requests, her accent permeating the air thickly.

"D'accord, mademoiselle." Anne nods her head respectfully and sets about her task.

"Why France?" Questions Russia, confusion evident on his pale face.

"Prussia's boyfriend is currently visiting Francis, so he probably won't bother us for awhile." Belgium says nonchalantly, flipping dark blonde curls out of her face.

This is met with silence, while Germany's face scrunches up in thought, attempting to recall who his brother was seeing. All he could draw up was the image of a polar bear, which makes no sense. What nation has a pet polar bear? And why would it be able to talk? Not even Gilbert's never-aging bird could talk, or his own dogs. Granted, his dogs hadn't been gifted with immortality, he just replaced them every fifteen years or so.

The awkward silence is broken by someone's cell phone playing "American Trash" rather loudly. Alice blushes prettily, quickly answering her phone to explain to Alfred where her house is. The man had managed to end up on the other side of Liège, where his taxi driver made him get out and ditched him. He was now trying to walk to her house, which is approximately 700 miles from where he had been stranded. Alice, by this point in his story, was tapping her foot irritably, questioning how such an idiot had managed to gain the title of super nation. She signs to Hungary to get her map of the metro system and begins giving the man directions on which metro to take and where to get off and to not accept help from strangers and pretty much all of the things that he should know by now. Once she got off the phone with him, she stares upward and seems to say a quick prayer of some sort.

"Okay, so Alfred is not going to be showing up for around a half-hour. I'll show you all to your rooms and let you get settled. All of the bedrooms are upstairs, so let's head up." The blonde woman doesn't wait for a response, but rather turns gracefully on the ball of her foot, leading the way to the bedrooms.

The three others follow her silently, Hungary at the lead and Russia in the back. Halfway up the stairs, Ludwig trips and brings Ivan down with him. The two end up entangled at the foot of the stairs, each blushing to impressive shades of red while attempting to disconnect from the other. The two girls turn around and begin laughing hysterically at the amusing sight. They end up having to lean on each other to prevent themselves from falling down in a similar fashion to the men. This, of course, causes the two men to become even more belligerent in their attempts to disentangle themselves from where they had landed.

Hungary is prompted to whistle at the two rather immaturely. Belgium laughs even harder in response and Germany manages to crack a smile. Russia remains mortified, and now retains a posture of having been offended. The two finally manage to separate, refusing to make eye contact.

"Was I invited here to be ridiculed?" Ivan asks, his tone sharp enough for Alice to drop her smile, looking properly ashamed of her reaction to the incident.

"Of course not, Ivan. I'm sorry to have laughed in response to your being tripped, though you must know it was in good humor." She responds formally, elbowing Hungary to make her refrain from scoffing.

Ivan simply picks up his luggage and continues up the stairs, bringing an end to the spectacle.

* * *

><p>And there is the newest edited chapter, hope you enjoyed. Flames and other forms of criticism are welcomed.<p> 


	3. Chapter 4

Alice is moving frantically around the kitchen, preparing snacks for the nations to enjoy once America arrived. The snacks were, of course, absolutely delectable. Sweet fruits dipped in even sweeter chocolate, truffles powdered elegantly with confectioner's sugar, all to be served with a bottle of fine French wine. Belgium is, if nothing else, a bit of a show-off when it comes to the culinary arts. Fortunately, her abilities to cook are far better than her eldest brother, who could burn a salad if left with the right items. It's amazing he and England share no hereditary relationship. Alice begins to hum at the thought in an attempt to keep from laughing. She is saved from that train of thoughts by the doorbell signaling Alfred's arrival.

Rushing to the door, she nearly hits Russia her apron. The two awkwardly laugh at the accident, squishing on either side of the doorway to let the other through. This makes the situation become even more awkward when Belgium decides to walk through the door first, which is not nearly wide enough for both of them. The accidental crotch-to-hand contact was _really _and completely unavoidable if you asked either of them. The fact that Alice didn't move her hand for a second too long _really _did not mean a thing. Not at all.

"Sorry!" They both gasp at the same time, turning an interesting shade of red.

Alice is snapped back into what she was originally trying to do by the sound of Alfred ringing the doorbell again. And again. By this point, the hyperactive and mildly annoyed nation was just continuously ringing the bell. And eating the croissant he bought on his way to the fancy looking house. And wearing neon orange skinny jeans. Yup. Nothing strange about that.

All of this was observed when a rather irritated brunette by the name of Anne opened the door. All of this was also processed as his being a strangely dressed stripped sent by France again. After she processed this perfectly logical hypothesis, Anne acted in a perfectly appropriate manner for a situation such as that. This perfectly appropriate manner was screaming obscenities in French and making gestures for a shocked Alfred to leave immediately.

"Woah. Lady, chill. Hey! I do not have scrawny chicken legs. Oi! Parlez dans anglais, je ne sais pas bien français." Alfred finally gets Anne to stop hurling insults in rapid-fire French.

The short woman glares fiercely at the man before drawing in another breath to start throwing her insults in English, instead. This is halted by Alice running up behind her and clasping a hand over the temperamental woman's mouth. Anne quickly pales, wondering how angry Alice might become when she sees the stripper still standing on her front porch.

"Anne, il est Alfred, notre invité. Pourquoi tu es fâché?" Belgium quickly murmers to her faithful maid, all while smiling warmly to a mildly offended Alfred.

"Eh? C'est Alfred? C'est homme? Vous êtes certain?" Anne looks at her boss as though the woman had grown two heads, then turns red in embarrassment, "Je suis désolé, monsieur."

Alfred just laughs at the ashamed woman, giving her a thumbs up. After shoving the rest of his croissant rather grossly into his mouth, he launches into the story of how he made it to the house. If one were to actually listen, they might hear how he met a really nice American couple at the place he was buying a croissant from and they agreed to let him hitch a ride in their rental. However, no one really cared enough to try and distinguish words from the gargled mess of chewed up food spewing out of Alfred's mouth. This being said, Belgium chose to simply wear a polite smile and try desperately to avoid being hit by the particles leaving his mouth at a disturbing rate.

"America, please swallow before talking." Germany says, grimacing from behind Belgium. This of course, caused a petulant expression to mar his features while he makes a big show of swallowing the croissant. Belgium just smiles at Germany in thanks, her green eyes shining prettily.

"As I was saying, you need to give better directions, oh great nationa of chocolate and beer." Alfred says, grinning proudly at the wit put into Belgium's new nickname and not noticing Germany face-palming.

"Has Mexico been trying to teach you Spanish grammar again?" Alice questions, wondering where in his brain calling her 'nationa' made sense.

"Yup! Bien hablo españa!"* Hoping that Alfred was just joking around, Alice steps aside to let the rather... special nation into the house.

_At least he has a nice butt. _Ivan thinks, imagining grabbing the perky thing while nibbling on the soft flesh right underneath his jaw. Maybe a nice blonde nation with her head bobbing up and down on his rather impressive length. Speaking of said blonde...

"Ivan- Earth to Ivan?" Belgium stands in front of him, snapping her well-cared for fingers in his face.

"Da?" The Slavic nation looks at the blonde curiously, his face not betraying the previous thoughts he had.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for five minutes. We're going into the kitchen to eat, if you would like to join us?" The last sentence was left as a question, one which Ivan quickly nodded his head in response to.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for taking forever to update this, life has not been very fun lately. Also, I won't post petitions like that often, only if there is a real risk to my ability to access this site. Also, I finally learned french, so hopefully my translations won't be so shitty. If they still suck, don't hold back in explaining just why I am a terrible person for not knowing how to say everything in French, as people have been doing. Really, thanks for the positive <strong>**criticism, guys. Considering the fact that I post things on here to make myself feel less like an idiot, it's always great to have it proved that safe zones no longer exist. Alright, now I'm just being a drama queen. I love all of you guys for reading my stuff and reading this excessively mopey author's note.**

Translations:

Parlez dans anglais, je ne sais pas bien français- Speak in english, I don't speak good French

Anne, il est Alfred, notre invité. Pourquoi tu es fâché?- Anne, this is Alfred, we invited him. Why are you upset?

C'est Alfred? C'est homme? Vous êtes certain?- This is Alfred. Him? Are you sure?

Je suis désolé, monsieur.- I'm sorry, sir.

Bien hablo españa!- Good speak Spain. (This is purposefully incorrect. Don't worry. Realmente, hablo español bien porque estoy en la clase de español tres.)


	4. Chapter 5

The silence that hung over the dinner table was mainly due to everyone's eating the delicious meal that had been laid out by the nation of beer, chocolate, french fries and waffles. It was a lovely mixture of German, Dutch and French food; a taste created through thousands of years of evolution. Small hums of approval came from Alfred's corner, along with loud chewing noises. It was rather amazing how oblivious he seemed of Ivan's aura growing more and more frightening as bits of wet food flew onto his coat from Alfred's mouth. On the other side of the bumptious American, Elizaveta's eye began to twitch in irritation, the only thing preventing her from pouncing onto the rude man being Alice's well-manicured nails digging into her arm. This went unnoticed by the others, thanks to her grand ability to keep a smile on her face through almost anything. Fortunately, her smile never touched the creepiness of Ivan's.

_"I wonder how pissed off I can get the Commie this week..." _The thought bring a smile to Alfred's face, causing the entire table to grimace at the sight of his half-chewed croissant.

"Err, Alfred? Would you mind chewing with your mouth closed, please? The rest of the table and I would be perfectly fine without getting a shower in your spit." Alice asks, her smile becoming even more honeyed with every word.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry dudette." Alfred says after gulping down the rest of his croissant, a coy smile tugging at his lips.

"Though, of course, I'd be perfectly happy to have your saliva on me in other, more pleasant ways." Alice finishes, winking at the now choking American before busting out in peals of laughter.

"Alice! A respectable woman should never say something like that!" Germany spits out, his face screwed up into an unpleasant mix between jealousy and embarrassment.

"Oh mein gott, Ludwig, it was a joke. Unlike this: when the hell are you going to pull that stick out of your ass and admit the reason you say things like that is because you're jealous?" Alice's smile was gone at this point, and her emerald eyes were shining with tears.

She walks quickly from the room, carrying her half-full plate with her. The door slams shut, leaving a shocked group of nations glaring at the guilty party. Who, attempts to follow her, only stopped by Hungary. Ludwig looks up at Alfred in confusion, causing the other nation to shrug his own shoulders. Neither of them totally understood what had caused the insane switch in her mood. Through no choice of his own, Ivan follows silently, ignoring the worried glance from the other nations. He was completely spellbound by this odd _desire _to follow the blonde girl and... he didn't even know what he would do after catching up with her.

* * *

><p>Alice sat in her room, nibbling on cheese whilst sniffling girlishly. Why cheese, one might ask? Well, a short relationship with Switzerland in 1839 can do that to a person. Not to mention, cheese is delicious and comforting. Before WWI, she, Vash, and Lili would occasionally get together to talk (mostly just her and Lili, with Vash sometimes nodding his head) and snack on chocolate and cheese. That small comfort was, as always, destroyed by Germany. Not exactly Ludwig himself, just his psychotic leaders of the time. Verdammt*. Time for the beer to come out. Or maybe tequila.<p>

She had downed three beers before Ivan knocked on the door.

"Belgium, may I come in?" He asks politely.

"No, go away." Alice mumbles, sounding every bit like a pouting teenager.

"I bring vodka." Ivan states, his accent taking on a rather disturbing childlike tone.

Alice slowly opens the door, stepping aside for the tall man to enter her deep blue and well decorated chambers. He swiftly walks in, placing a bottle of the clear liquid onto her already filled booze desk/cabinet. It was a rather impressive collection, especially considered the small door hidden in the back of the cabinet, which opened up to reveal a small closet filled with the finer alcohols. This wasn't even counting the other hidden storage cells within the room. It wasn't even worth the headache to figure out how much chocolate had been stashed along with less legal substances. Still, it was better than the hidden McDonald's in Alfred's closet.

"Welcome to my cave. What brings you to my wallowing self?" Alice asks, the alcohol feeding her smart assyness.

"I'm not sure." Ivan tilts his head, his purple eyes flashing with the fantasies of her nude and begging, "But the answer might be at the bottom of this bottle."

This is said with a smirk, and a popping noise as he opens the lovely-looking glass of vodka. Without so much as a wince, the clear and potent alcohol was making it's way down his throat. Belgium lets out an abrupt laugh, raising her own glass of a much sweeter substance. It was an eerily cheery game of booze, each glass causing them to gain confidence in their flirtatious attempts. Alice, not known for her lack of sexual partners, nor for the never ending flow of bedmates she had taken over the years. Nor was Ivan particularly well known for his sexual endeavors, the only one really coming to mind being the toss in the hay he once had with Alfred during one of the World Wars. They were both nations though, and had been around long enough to accept their natures in bed and the fact that relationships do not, no matter how hard you try, last forever. This made the lead up to Ivan's grabbing her face and attacking her lips with a fervor far shorter than it would have been with humans.

The coldness of his mouth and tongue caused a delighted shiver through Alice's far warmer body. The skill he showed certainly helped her in moving onto his lap, grinding them together in a beautifully practiced movement. When he moved to nibble on her neck none too gently, the gasp that escaped was very much to be expected. An exceedingly calm motion threw her shirt off to reveal a deep red bra covered in delicious lace and her full chest.

* * *

><p>Vardammt- dammit<p>

Hello readers of this author's note! My friend, EmiQueenieArrow, could use some loving on her stories, so go forth my lovelies~ She's currently struggling to rewrite one of her fics, which happens to be my favorite one, so I'll make sure to tell you guys in the next chapter whether it's up yet. Seriously though, her stuff is great and internet cookies to all who check it out. B)


End file.
